


Take Me Down to Reaper Town (Na-Na Na Na Na, Na-Na Na Na Na)

by DoctorSyntax



Category: So Weird, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Fade to Black, Femslash February, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3286898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorSyntax/pseuds/DoctorSyntax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when a cranky reaper meets a cheeky clairvoyant with a special fondness for astral projection? If that sounds like the set-up for a paranormal romantic comedy, it's because it probably is, and a mediocre one at best. But if Claire's life is going to be a walking cliché, she might as well see it through to the happily-ever-after bit. Now she just has to get Tessa on board with the idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Down to Reaper Town (Na-Na Na Na Na, Na-Na Na Na Na)

Claire Avner is a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them. Her bed is pushed into the middle of the room, underneath the devil's trap she'd painted on the ceiling the day she'd moved in. There's a salt ring, thick and unbroken, poured carefully on the floor around the bed, and two other lines under the door and along the windowsill, both of which are locked. A hex bag warding off demons is tucked inside her pillowcase.

She takes one last glance at the body on the bed—her body—before putting her hand against the wall and stepping right through it, allowing herself to float down to the ground outside her apartment building.

It's a beautiful fall day. Children are screaming and running around the building's playground, climbing the jungle gym Claire knows to be brightly colored. On the sidewalk a middle-aged couple passes by holding hands. Leaves crackle under their feet, but not under Claire's.

The gorgeous scenery of autumn is muted somewhat through the veil of the afterlife; to Claire, its beauty only intensifies, but she knows she's a little unusual in that regard. She can still remember when the otherworld was her safe place, her refuge. And even though now she's all grown-up and well-adjusted enough to hide from her problems in the real world instead of the afterlife, she can't wholly sever the association between this place and those feelings, the intensely powerful wave of security that rushes over her whenever she steps inside.

A little boy runs past, in hot pursuit of a rogue baseball, and though his mitted hand swipes right through her body Claire still steps to the side and laughs good-naturedly. "Oops." She watches his chase, vaguely concerned about the nearby street even though she wouldn't be able to do anything, and smiles when he scoops the ball up out of the grass.

"Ryan!" a woman calls nearby, rubbing her arms for warmth through her white sweater. "Not so close to the road, sweetheart!" Claire smiles and turns forward again.

There's a dark-haired woman about Claire's age directly in her path, about thirty feet away, arms crossed and hip cocked to one side. Something about her is intensely familiar, as though they've perhaps met before. She probably lives in the building. Claire makes a mental note to try to figure out what unit she lives in, because she's seriously hot and _love thy neighbor_? Is not only good life advice, but also totally Claire's favorite commandment. And who is she to go against the word of god?

Her eyes don't move, fixed on the spot where Claire is, and if Claire didn't know any better she'd think the woman was watching her. And—well, it's not impossible; if her mysterious hot neighbor also happened to be clairvoyant she might be able to see Claire's astral form. Or maybe she's not a neighbor after all. She could be a ghost.

Quickly Claire glances over her shoulder as her heart rate picks up pace. It's stupid, she's an astral projection and she can still feel her body's fight-or-flight response triggering, like phantom pains in an amputated limb. There's nobody behind her, which means mysteriously hot maybe-not-neighbor is either staring at a whole lot of nothing, or a whole lot of _Claire_. And her steely gaze doesn't give away the slightest hint of her intentions. Great.

Claire sighs, slowing her pace, and psychologically readies herself for the mental sprint back to her body. She's just about to turn and go when:

"Not so fast." The dark-haired hottie's voice stops Claire dead, comically frozen halfway through turning. Maybe she wasn't talking to Claire? Maybe if Claire stays really, really still, she'll go away? Fuck. Fuck.

And maybe curiosity killed the cat, but there's something to be said for the resurrecting powers of satisfaction, and Claire may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. Or something.

The point is, she kind of doesn't shag ass even though she really, really should.

"Do you really think you can hide from Death?" the girl asks. "From me?" And, oh, that's fucking creepy. No matter how hot that chick is, she's obviously seriously twisted. Which Claire can get behind, because crazy chicks are generally also the wildest in bed, but if she's also a vengeful ghost that might put a damper on the really hot sex. But when Claire tentatively turns around to face her, she doesn't look psychotic or ghostly. Actually, she looks kind of disappointed. "Don't tell me you want to stay here."

"Er… no?" Claire tries, and that appears to satisfy Crazy Hot Chick. Who knows why, except that she's evidently insane.

"Good. Now where's your body?"

Of all the questions Claire was expecting, she has to admit this wasn't one of them. "I'm not telling you."

The woman rolls her eyes, reaching out a hand. "Fine. I'll just reap you from here."

Comic double-takes are notoriously easy, but Claire likes to think hers has a special kind of flair. "Reap me?" she splutters, twisting her body to avoid the woman's hand. "Why the hell would you do that?"

The woman cocks her head to the side. "I see Death didn't give you the run-down. Well, sweetheart, welcome to limbo. You're dead, I'm something called a Reaper, and I'm here to escort you to your final resting place—You can call me Tessa if you want," she adds, as if that's supposed to help.

"Uh, try again," Claire answers, mildly insulted that this Tessa thinks she's the kind of person who doesn't know what happens when you die. "I'm clairvoyant, not dead." She gestures toward her non-body. "See this? Astral projection. Nothing more, nothing less. I promise you, my body is alive and breathing." She'd be able to tell if it wasn't. Right? And besides, she's always careful about leaving her body well-protected. She'd learnt her lesson the time in the treehouse.

Tessa sighs heavily. "Listen, you can stay if you want to. I'm not forcing you anywhere. I'm just saying, it's a really, really awful idea." Compassion sneaks into her eyes and softens them, and, whoa, that's unexpected. This reaper's got layers—more than a birthday cake but fewer than an onion, Claire guesses. "Is there someone you don't want to leave behind? Because you've got to believe me, Claire, one day they'll die too, and they'll be gone, and you'll still be here. Unless you come with me."

Oh my god, she's getting the don't-become-a-vengeful-spirit lecture. Oh Christ, oh Christ. If she had lungs she'd probably be hyperventilating right now. "No, listen, I'm really _not_ dead. Oh, for Christ's—listen, if you promise not to reap me I'll show you where my body is. You can see for yourself that I'm still alive, okay?"

Tessa looks doubtful. Claire feels a tiny bit desperate. "Come on," she bargains, "just give me the benefit of the doubt here. If I'm dead after all, I'll come with; no muss, no fuss, no spills. But if I'm alive, you gotta let me be."

"Fine." This Tessa girl, she doesn't look happy about it. But she dutifully follows Claire back to her apartment, to her bedroom and her corporeal form.

Claire always finds it uncomfortable to look at herself when she's out of her body, but she tries not to make a habit of it past the cursory is-everything-okay glance she gives whenever she steps out. It's even stranger now, with a reaper by her side watching Claire's sleeping form, sprawled out across the bed, chest rising and falling gently with every breath.

Tessa doesn't say anything for a long time. Then, finally: "You're not dead," she says, stupidly.

Well, duh. Obvious. But relief washes over Claire just the same, and she relaxes a little. "Just visiting," is her cheeky, if somewhat belated, answer. She glances over at Tessa.

It makes Tessa cross her arms and cock her hip, all, _we are_ not _amused_ and Claire has to stifle the urge to giggle. She is an adult. She is an adult. She is not going to go around _giggling_ at _reapers_ , which is probably tantamount to mocking Death and will get her smote on the spot for even thinking about it.

When thirty seconds pass and an errant lightning bolt doesn't strike her down, she figures it might be okay to crack a grin. "Listen, it's a rookie mistake. No big deal. Let's just chalk it all up to a big misunderstanding and leave it at that, huh?"

Tessa still isn't very entertained. Claire doesn't know why. It's a funny kind of situation, but, you know, tough crowd.

"Fine," she says, raising her hands in surrender. "I'm going. I'll catch you around, Tessa."

"You'd better not," is the last thing she hears, hollered after her as she vaporizes back into her body. When she blinks her eyes open there's a smile stretched wide on her lips, and right away her heart sinks. 

Oh, no. How inconvenient.

She actually has no idea what just happened, or why. But one thing's or sure: she's got to talk to someone about it, and there's only one person in the world who probably won't laugh at her. Fi.

 _Did I really just meet-cute with a reaper?_ , she texts. After a moment's thought, she sends another message: _Since when is my life a paranormal romcom?_

Her phone buzzes almost immediately with a reply. _Elaborate._

Now that she's given the opportunity to spill, she doesn't want to. It's silly and scary all at once, the way her stomach's twisted all up in knots at the thought of a reaper. A reaper! She knows Fi's the only person on earth who won't judge her, but—well, it doesn't mean she won't judge herself.

She doesn't know how to start that conversation, so she doesn't. She ignores the text, tossing her phone aside to concentrate on cleaning up her studio, because busywork is, of course, the best possible way to solve her problems. When she works her way back to her bedroom, and her phone, three hours later, there's two more messages from Fi: _seriously wtf?_ and _claire im going to kill you answer me_.

As if Fi could sense that she's got the phone in her hand (and, seriously, what the fuck, Claire's the clairvoyant one here) it vibrates in her palm. _At least tell me if s/he's cute_.

She can't help replying, like she all of a sudden doesn't have control over her own damn fingers. _Totally sexy hot_ , she types back, and as she hits send she catches herself grinning goofily. Barely restrains herself from sighing dreamily—yep. She's already gone, head over heels; her life is officially a John Hughes movie, albeit one with more metaphysics, less high school, and an equal measure of Molly Ringwald hair.

She's shockingly cool with that.

As long as, of course, she gets the girl by the time they roll credits on her life.

*

Claire Avner. Tessa knows her name, of course; she knows all their names and their stories. Their faces are a different story entirely, unknown to her until Death takes hold of them or until they brush unseeing past her while she's retrieving another of her lost souls. It's those times that unsettle her the most, the ice-cold feeling of premonition turning her head and bringing with it a flash of a vision of their future. The ones like Claire, whose futures are long past, are the ones that leave her feeling conflicted and empty, longing for Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, and for the way things used to be.

For the ones like Claire, just the mention of their names is enough to make Tessa shudder, and now, for Claire, she has a face to go with that name. Sleek cat-eyes and high cheekbones, dark lashes against pale skin. Hair a springy tangle of curls that don't quite have a mind of its own. And a freely-given smile that's almost, but not quite, enough to quell the queasy feeling in Tessa's stomach. As far as nuisances go, Claire's certainly the most attractive Tessa's had to deal with, Dean Winchester a close second. She still hopes Claire will heed her order, and stay away.

She knows better than to hope for such things, but hope she does anyway.

*

Claire makes it a whole four days before she gives in to her impulses and goes back, slipping into the afterlife in a quiet moment. She doesn't even bother to leave her room this time.

Tessa pops up out of thin air, and when she sees Claire she narrows her eyes. It looks like she's viciously suppressing the urge to punch something, which doesn't even make sense because she's a _reaper_ and her fist would slide right through anything she hit, but Claire supposes fury is universal.

Though, really, she thinks (a bit hurt), fury is far too strong a reaction. It's almost as if Tessa doesn't want to see her.

"You're still not dead," Tessa bites out, after a cursory glance at Claire's corporeal body. "Why are you here?"

Claire shrugs, trying not to take it personally. "Needed a change of scenery? I hear the leaves change this time of year, thought I'd go for a long, meandering Sunday drive through the afterworld."

"I was in the middle of something."

"Well, don't skip out on my account." Claire gestures vaguely with her hands, a mix of walking fingers and a shooing motion. It looks like she's deranged. "By all means, pop on back. You know I'm not dead and you don't need to reap me yet."

"I should, anyway," Tessa mutters, hugging her arms to her chest. "Teach you a lesson about crying wolf."

Tessa looks like a pouting four-year-old who isn't allowed another cookie. Claire masterfully restrains herself from pointing this out. "Well, how about when I do finally die, you can be the one to reap me?"

All the offer does is make Tessa rolls her eyes. "First of all, that's not much of a consolation prize." Though Claire begins a token protest, Tessa just speaks right over her. "In the second place, it's already going to happen so the offer's not exactly yours to make."

"What do you mean?"

"It's predetermined. It's—" Tessa gestures vaguely— " _all_ predetermined. Since the beginning of time I've had a list of souls that I'm going to reap, and your name has always been on it. It's why I'm drawn to you, whenever you do this. Any time a soul on that list dies, I go to them. I don't have any control over it."

"But when I was a kid I used to do this all the time and you never showed up," Claire argues. This doesn't even begin to make sense. "Hell, I did this six months ago and you didn't pop up and try to reap me then."

"When you were a child I knew your time wasn't up. Now it's harder to tell. I'm still going to reap you, I just… I don't know when, anymore."

"Why? Am I getting close to the time I die?"

Tessa sighs, and doesn't answer for a second. "No—not exactly."

"Then why?" Claire presses. She doesn't mean to be pushy. She just wants to understand.

"Subversion of the apocalypse, the Fate sisters getting fired, Congress passing the Free Will Bill, who the hell knows?" Tessa asks. "Upstairs, downstairs, _and_ behind the scenes… it's all one big mess, and you humans haven't the slightest idea." She sighs. "I don't have time for this. You can show yourself out."

She disappears.

*

Since the beginning of time, no reaper has ever been torn in two directions at once. It's impossible. The Fates were meticulous, planning reapings which as much care and attention as they had planned the deaths preceding them. No reaper ever lost two of their flock at once.

A dying soul pulls their reaper from one side, compelling them to where they need to be. It's a familiar sensation; commonplace even. That's why Tessa's so startled when she feels herself torn in two directions. She loses track of where she is for a moment, which perhaps justifies her shortness upon discovering the reason behind it. She knows where she is, and where she's supposed to be, and for the first time, ever, they're not the same.

"You have got to be kidding me," she groans. "You're not dead, Claire, stop showing up here."

Claire is beautiful and flip, shrugging a shoulder and smiling. "What can I say? Come for the food, stay for the hot reapers."

"I don't even have time for this," Tessa says, and makes a split-second decision. "Fine. You're coming with me." She reaches out to grab Claire's arm, and Claire jerks it away.

"Uh uh. No way am I taking your hand and going into the light. I'm not dead yet, remember?"

Tessa sighs, anxious to get going. She's got work to do, real work, and Claire needs to understand that before she leaves this time. "It doesn't work like that, Claire, I can touch you all I want without reaping you."

"I thought…" Claire trails off. Misconceptions about reapers abound among the few living humans Tessa's had contact with. One of these days, she's going to have to sit down and write them a list of facts to disseminate around the hunter community. Until then, verbal Cliffs Notes will have to do. 

"You have to be willing to go with me, Claire," she explains shortly. "Until that happens, I can't reap you. Trust me, it would make my life a whole lot easier if I could." It's a little bit of a lie, but Claire doesn't know her well enough to tell, yet.

Claire bites her lip. Tessa can practically see the wheels turning in her head. "What if I'm never ready?"

Tessa looks at her pointedly. "Don't ask questions you already know the answers to. Now come on. Jesse's waiting, and I'm not leaving a scared little boy with his dead body any longer than I have to."

*

In the blink of an eye Claire's standing in an unfamiliar bedroom. It's night, suddenly, and the lights are off—for a moment, as her eyes adjust, all she can see is dark shadows on dark walls, few decorations, a bed with faint moonlight thrown across it. Claire has no idea where she is, and she should be scared, but she's calm. At peace. Tessa's right beside her. She can't stop thinking about it. Tessa's hand was—it was _tangible_. Felt firm and real in Claire's own, not warm but not cold either.

"Where are we?" she finally asks, and Tessa doesn't look at her when she answers.

"Australia."

Claire's shocked, but tries not to let it show. "Why?"

"I have a very special charge to collect." Tessa nods toward the bed. Laid out on it is a boy, barely a teenager, with messy, light brown hair. He looks so peaceful that at first glance Claire assumes he's sleeping—until she sees the bloody stab mark centered in his collarbone. 

"It took them a long time to find him," Tessa says softly, almost to herself. "But they were always going to. Sometimes destiny works the way it's supposed to."

Implied in her tone is that sometimes destiny goes wrong, and Claire wants to ask—she even gets as far as opening her mouth before she becomes aware of another presence in the room, someone on her other side. It's a young boy, the same as the boy in the bed, staring down at his own lifeless body. His eyes are fixed on the puncture wound in his throat. Once Claire's gaze catches on him, she finds herself unable to look away.

He doesn't acknowledge their presence; Claire's not even sure he knows they're there. But he must, because after a long moment he looks up at them and doesn't seem surprised. "Am I dead?"

Tessa nods. Claire's stunned to notice wetness at the corner of her eyes; Tessa seems even more upset than the boy—Jesse, she'd called him. Claire wonders if she knew him.

Jesse touches the hollow of his throat, which doesn't have the same puncture wound as his body does. "Was it the angels?"

Tessa nods again.

Jesse faces himself once more. Doesn't look at Claire or Tessa when he says, "If I was awake, if I _knew_ , I could have stopped them. They didn't fight fair." It's every inch the sullen teenager, and a sharp ache rips at Claire's heart. He's so _young_.

"I know, honey," Tessa says, and her voice is thick with tears. "But everyone has to go sometime." 

"Go where?"

"If I told you, that would spoil the surprise. Anything else you want to know?"

He thinks for a second. "Are you coming with me?"

"No, I have to stay," she says kindly. "I would go with you if I could." She sounds like she really means it, like she would cross over with this little boy at the expense of her own life to make his transition a little easier. Claire has never loved anybody more in her entire life.

"I don't think I want to stay," he says quietly, and Claire doesn't miss the nervous flicker of his eyes toward his dead body.

"Then come here, darling," Tessa says, and spreads her arms wide. When Jesse steps into her embrace she hugs him tightly. He disappears in a flash of white light but still Tessa doesn't let go, like she hasn't even noticed he's gone. For the briefest of moments she looks so lost and grief-stricken that it breaks Claire's heart.

"Is it always that hard?"

Tessa starts, as if she hadn't remembered Claire was even there. She must be used to doing this on her own, Claire realizes. Eternity is a long time to spend by yourself. Tessa breathes in, and Claire can practically see her walls going back up. "No. He was special."

*

The last thing Tessa wants to do is linger in that (almost) empty room, so she brings Claire home. Claire, who's not half as tactless as she pretends to be, is bursting with questions that Tessa knows she'll never ask. She watches Claire open and close her mouth half a dozen times without managing to say a single word.

It ends up being too much.

"I lied to you, last time," Tessa blurts out, even though that's not quite what Claire was going to ask. But it's _relevant_ , okay? "I know why I keep showing up, why I don't know when you're going to die, and it isn't any of the reasons I told you last week."

Claire instantly looks intrigued, and not the least bit upset or betrayed or whatever human touchy-feely nonsense Tessa thought she might feel. "So what is it then? Enquiring minds want to know."

"You were supposed to die three months ago."

Claire's eager-to-know look drops in time with her jaw. It would be funny if it weren't so heartbreaking. "How?"

"How are you still alive, or how were you supposed to die?"

"Both. I don't know. How… how was I supposed to go?"

Tessa shrugs. She wants to be cold. "Collateral damage in the apocalypse. Which, as you can surmise by the fact that you're alive, didn't happen." Claire looks lost, dazed, and Tessa's resolve doesn't last long. She reaches out on instinct—the most human thing she's done in a long, long time—and jerks her hand back barely an inch from Claire's arm. Thinks for a second, and does it again anyway. 

When she pulls, Claire comes to her, and Tessa's other hand comes up to cradle Claire's face, thumb gently stroking Claire's cheekbone. Finally it produces the desired response: Claire's eyes meet hers, and Tessa leans forward, planting a kiss on her lips.

_A circle of strangers, eyes flickering black. Claire screaming incantations and flinging holy water, but there's five of them and one of her. It isn't long until one of them has her by the hair, forcing her to her knees. The demon twists her hand, and Claire screams, hands coming up to bat wildly, ineffectually._

_Suddenly before her is tall, tall man with dark hair, a white suit, a calm smile. He leans down, eyes level with Claire. "Help me find my brother," he commands with a voice like cool liquid, and Claire spits in his face._

_He smiles wider. Snaps his fingers. Claire drops, limp and lifeless as a doll._

Claire's pushing her away, scrambling back. She's hunched over slightly, arms pulled tight against her body, a cagey animal curling in on herself in protection. Tessa wants to hold her, comfort her, help her pass over so she'll never think of this moment again. It's pure instinct; from the beginning of time it's the only way Tessa's ever known to help someone. It's exactly what the dead need.

It won't help her with the living, though. "Claire. I'm sorry. I never wanted to tell you." That nauseating sense of wrongness Tessa felt when they first met is back, and in full force. "It's not something anyone should walk around with."

"That was the _devil_ , Tessa," Claire accuses with shocking certainty. It's not enough to hide the tremble in her voice. "That's how I was supposed to die? The devil was going to kill me?"

Tessa nods slightly. "But he never got that far."

"Why not?"

"The face you saw, that man, he didn't do what he was supposed to. So now nothing is happening as it should."

"Hey, maybe that means I'll never die. I can just hang around in the afterlife and annoy you all day." The smile Claire tries on doesn't fit. Tessa doesn't understand why it aches, only that it does.

"Humor," Tessa says, feeling somehow numb. "I know a defense mechanism when I see one."

Claire's smile is sad. "I never said it wasn't one. But, hey, it's better than skipping town on your body whenever shit gets too hard to handle. As far as defense mechanisms go, I've traded up."

"Just… tell me what you really think."

"I really think I wish you hadn't shown me that." Her voice shakes.

Tessa tilts her head to the side. Her heart might be breaking, but she doesn't have to acknowledge it. "Fair."

*

Claire's a little put out, to phrase it mildly. Indignant might be a better word for it. Her life is a pretty crappy excuse for a romcom; too much angst and not nearly enough T&A. Instead of a John Hughes film, she is apparently living in some melodramatic play from the 1940's where the lead actress meets a terrible end and dies alone and unloved and, okay, she's going to stop right there before she gets maudlin.

So she's reeling a little, so what? Tessa lied to her and then dropped a truth bomb right on her head. She deserves a couple minutes of self-pity. It's not every day someone tells you that you've outlived Fate's plan for you and then proceeds to show you your intended death scene—Lucifer included—in Technicolor and surround-sound. 

Makes you wonder what it all means. Tessa probably knows. Tessa probably wouldn't tell her. Claire makes a mental note to ask anyway, next time she pops out for a stroll through the otherworld.

Which she's not going to be doing anytime soon. It's not that she doesn't want to see Tessa, it's just—well. Every time she closes her eyes she sees the man with eyes like the devil, his face crowding her vision until she can't see anything but his icy smile, right before everything goes black.

Claire's resolve lasts all of a week. In hindsight, she should probably be proud of herself for holding out even that long. Standing beside her bed, she takes a deep breath; the air of the afterlife so much crisper than that on earth… nothing polluting it but souls, she supposes.

Tessa isn't anywhere to be seen. For a long beat Claire just waits, dread mounting by the millisecond. Suppose Tessa was lying about this, too? What else has she lied about?

"You know, you're going to get yourself into trouble one of these days. Death's going to take notice."

Claire spins around at the same time a grin splits her face wide. "That was almost a hello, and it was _definitely_ concern for my well-being. I do believe you're growing fond of me, Tessa."

God, Tessa's so cute, even when she's frowning fiercely. "I've done no such thing. Only got used to seeing you around is all."

"Alright, grumpy-puss. Deny it all you want; I know the truth."

"Someone finally told you how insufferable you are?"

"Something like that, cupcake."

"Why are you here?" Tessa asks gruffly, but Claire knows better than to believe she's annoyed.

She flutters her eyelashes obnoxiously. "Did you miss me, pumpkin?"

Tessa doesn't quite meet her eye. "I didn't think you were going to come back."

"Why?" Claire asks. "Because you told me I'm a zombie? Uh-uh. You don't get rid of me that easy."

Tessa's answering smile is unexpected, quietly joyful, and the most beautiful thing Claire's ever seen in her entire life. She doesn't know how or why the apocalypse was averted, but she's profoundly grateful that it was, if only because it meant she got to live long enough to have this moment.

*

Two weeks later, Tessa gets the shock of her non-life when she feels the now-familiar tug and lets herself be pulled toward Claire's corner of the world. It is not by any stretch of the imagination the first time she's encountered a naked spirit—it's actually more common than one would think—but it's definitely the first time anyone's ambushed her with that look in their eyes. And technically Claire's not a spirit. Still. She's naked for no apparent reason.

Eventually Tessa realizes she's staring. But so is Claire.

"You busy?" Claire asks, breaking the silence. Her eyes don't leave Tessa's.

"No."

"Good. Come over here, and switch off your visions. I'm going to kiss you and I don't want to see myself dying when I do."

_[Fade to black.]_

_[Lights come up (softly) on the scene we just left, some time later. TESSA is lying on her back, CLAIRE draped partially over her. CLAIRE is half-humming, half-singing "Don't You Forget About Me" by Simple Minds.]_

"What are you singing?"

Claire laughs, as if she's realizing for the first time that she was doing it. "Nothing. Don't—nevermind. Just a thing."

"If you say so."

"Hey—" Claire shifts, propping herself up on en elbow. Tessa's suprised to discover she misses the warmth. "Hey, so… does it reflect badly on you if people choose not to move on?"

Tessa cocks her head to the side, not quite following. "Like… do I get in trouble with Death?"

"Yeah. Do you get audited at the end of the tax year, oh, Tessa's gone and let ten percent of her souls stay behind, her numbers are way up from last year, maybe we should sit her down and have a chat?" 

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's my job to escort people to the other side _if they wish_ ," she stresses. "But there have always been, and will always be, people who choose not to move on. It's as much a part of their fate as the way they died is." Briefly Tessa thinks of the encyclopedia entry on reapers that she is absolutely going to write up and give to Claire one day.

"So why do you even bother?"

Tessa quirks a wry grin. "Believe it or not, Claire, there are some things I don't know."

*

When Claire dies, it's hard not to know it's happening. She's got a nanosecond between the machete cutting through the flesh of her throat and the snap of her spinal column with which to think, _holy fucking shit I can't believe I'm actually getting beheaded by a goddamn vampire, what the hell_ , and by the time she's finished with that she's blinking her eyes open and staring at the familiar, muted colors of the afterlife.

Death is there this time, putting a halt to any wild fancies about this all being a really bad dream before they can even begin, and, what? Claire doesn't even get thirty seconds to delude herself before she gets shipped off to heaven or wherever? If you ask her, this whole dying thing is long overdue for an overhaul.

Death, he doesn't look quite like she expected, but he does look like Death, and that, she thinks, it definitely a point in his favor. There's unexpected compassion in his eyes, somewhere under the deep coldness she feels whenever she looks at him. There's probably a metaphor for expecting but dreading death in there, but Claire's too busy being overwhelmed by the fact that she's _fucking dead_ to make it.

"Hello, Claire," Death says, like they're old friends. Like he invited her to a party and she's just shown up on his doorstep. It's more than a little surreal. "Welcome back." He looks down at her body, which is not currently attached to her head. "That Atropos certainly has an interesting sense of humor."

It's then she remembers: Tessa will be along soon. She stands up straight, squares her shoulders, deep breaths. She's been practicing for this for six months. Starring performance, one night only: Claire Avner, playing herself, in the classic show _The Afterlife_. 

She knows Tessa's coming but it doesn't prepare her for the actual moment, for the way Tessa opens her mouth to make some smart remark which promptly dies on her lips as she catches sight of Death. Her mouth shuts with a nearly-audible click and emotion drains out of her face until there's nothing but this blank, grey look in her eyes that Claire's never seen before. She's devastated, grief spilling out from her and Claire just… doesn't understand.

"No," Tessa says, blinking. "You're not. You're not dead. You _can't_ be."

It's like her heart spins over on itself, the sudden reorienting of the world around her. "I'm dead," Claire says aloud, wonderingly. Though she's known it all along, hearing it out loud makes it an undeniable truth, several months in arrears and still too soon. For the first time in her life she wants to run and hide in the real world. But she can't.

She _can't_.

Death catches Tessa's eye and nods his head once. She gives him a tentative smile right before he disappears. Tessa turns back to Claire, all business in her face. Except for her eyes, which hold nothing but pain. It might be the most heartbreaking thing Claire's ever seen, and she just looked at her own dead body.

"Are there any questions that you want to ask me?" Tessa enquires, like it's her job. _Fuck_ , Claire thinks. It _is_ her job. But just because Tessa's being a professional ice queen or whatever, doesn't mean Claire has to follow suit.

"What, like, 'what does it all mean?' " She even does the air quotes because fuck you, she's Claire Avner and she does what she wants. Also, apparently she's dead; she's earned at least that right.

Tessa's wry grin is familiar. A comfort. "Exactly like that."

"I asked you that two weeks ago, and you told me to go fuck myself."

"Two weeks ago you were alive. Now stop being a pain in the ass and ask me some deep, existential question."

" _There's_ my cranky baby," Claire jokes, hoping her overwhelming relief doesn't reflect in her voice. "Don't go treating me all nice on account of my being dead."

Tessa scrunches up her face. "Oh, excuse me. I don't know _what_ I was thinking. Thought you might need a little comforting here. I'm sorry. I guess I just lost my head for a second."

Claire glances down. "Seriously? Not cool."

Tessa's mouth twitches. Almost a smile. Claire silently counts it as a victory. "Too soon?"

"Way, _way_ too… nah. It's never too soon for a good beheading joke."

"Damn straight."

For a minute they just look at each other. 

"If I stay…" Claire begins, but stops as soon as Tessa starts shaking her head.

"Please." Tessa swallows. "Please, don't stay."

"But if I go, I might never see you again. Will I get to see you again?"

Tessa shakes her head. A actual tear slides down her cheeks, more filling her eyes; she's blinking them away but they keep forming. "I don't know. I don't know if you can."

"I'll find a way back to you," Claire promises.

"Can't even get rid of you if I reap you," Tessa jokes weakly, and _that's_ what drives a stake right through Claire's heart, gets her laughing because she can't do anything else, has her hiccupping around her own sobs.

"I am your penance," she says, wiping at her face out of habit. Her hand goes right through what used to be flesh and bone. "You must have done something awful."

A silence falls between them, stretching on for long moments. Tessa's the first one to break it. "Are you scared?"

After inhaling a deep breath, Claire looks Tessa dead in the eye. "No." She holds out her hand. Tessa looks at it for a minute like she doesn't understand what Claire's trying to do, then she's pushing it aside, crowding into Claire's space, taking Claire's head in both of her hands. Tessa's lips are insistent against hers; it's all Claire can do not to lose herself and kiss back. Her arms snake around Tessa's shoulders, bracing herself for the ride of her life (or death).

She hardly notices it happening: Tessa breaks the kiss abruptly, wrapping her arms around Claire, and the curtain starts falling. 

_[Exit, pursued by a bear.]_


End file.
